It always starts with the Spring Peepers. Some years those small frogs begin announcing the passing of winter timidly, one or two at a time, tuning up for early rehearsals. But a week ago, when the last patches of snow lay scattered on the ground, a full chorus of peepers started singing simultaneously from the pond, as if they had been practicing in secret for that day.
The cardinals heard it, and the next morning one male started his cadence while it was still dark, "wet, wet, wet, wet" over and over, staking out his territory. As dawn broke, the air became saturated with bird song, sounding glorious after a quiet winter.
Deer have been browsing on new tufts of clover that sprung up overnight, and Harbinger of Spring and Bluet, those diminutive wildflowers, carpet the ground. Overhead, geese are winging their way back north.
Soft showers fell all day yesterday and on through the night, stimulating a green blush from the fields and lawns.
Springtime comes again, new every year, yet ancient, from the hand of the One who made all creatures, and, with the others, we lift a song of gratitude.
“But ask the animals, and they will teach you,
or the birds in the sky, and they will tell you;
or speak to the earth, and it will teach you,
or let the fish in the sea inform you.
Which of all these does not know
that the hand of the Lord has done this?
In his hand is the life of every creature
and the breath of all mankind.
Ask the Lord for rain in the springtime;
it is the Lord who makes the storm clouds.
He gives showers of rain to men,
and plants of the field to everyone.
Linking with Saturday's Critters